


Indulge Me

by ScholarQuirrel



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: I truly have no idea how to tag this, Other, Please read?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22866331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScholarQuirrel/pseuds/ScholarQuirrel
Summary: Even the most important citizen of Hallownest has his vices.
Relationships: Lurien the Watcher/The Watcher Knights (Hollow Knight)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 57





	Indulge Me

**Author's Note:**

> I was debating what to rate this fic since it's not particularly explicit in any way, but if anyone thinks I should raise it do let me know.

Such habits were hard to break.

He wouldn’t lie, this wasn’t something he indulged in often. He wasn’t allowed to. By all means he should not ever be doing such a thing, and yet, Lurien didn’t exactly want to stop this routine, so it would happen again.

It would start, every few months or so, with an itch deep in his shell. A place he couldn’t scratch, a frustrating distraction that would only build as the day went on. By nightfall he’d be unable to sit still, and once his butler had left, Lurien would throw on his cloak and all but rush to the barracks. The ride down from his chambers was torturous, but almost immediately after knocking on the doors, he’d be swept off his feet by strong, sturdy arms.

His knights always took care of him.

The lingering taste of bitter herbs in his mouth put him at ease when they began to divest him of his clothes. One pair of hands would take off his cloak, and another would unbutton his garments and the others would pick him up and move his limbs and settle him down atop one lucky knight’s bed, where he’d lay for the rest of the evening. They’d all have a turn with him, sate that need within him that he couldn’t meet on his own, and he could safely return to his own space without fear of any of them leaving a piece behind.

They knew of course, that none of them could risk it. Perhaps some of them liked to fantasize. He’d often croon out such words to entice them and encourage them when they were caught in the throes of passion.

Lurien sighed as he exposed his throat for one of them to settle their fangs around it.

He took them in ones and twos. They were less zealous in pairs, those who worked alone seemed more eager to prove themselves worthy. It didn’t matter, he handled them all the same.

Even after so much time in the same routine the first was always the hardest. He gasped as he was stretched open on them, though their kisses would soon silence him, and their hands on his shell would draw his mind from the discomfort to molten bliss. It was a blessing to be full and thoughtless, the near complete lack of mind present as their bodies moved in tandem with his. He was so lucky, and he cried out as much while his knights tried to fit every bit of themselves within his dripping heat.

Lurien was their ward, he was the thing they swore to always protect, but for these rare nights they would indulge in his body as though he were a fine delicacy.

While most simply enjoyed the basic act in itself, being buried in the Watcher or having his snout within their folds, others took the opportunity to lavish their charge with words of affection unable to be spoken at any other time. Their fellow knights turned away for the sake of the few as they laid with him and tried to share what could never be a truly private moment, whispers of adoration and affection sobbed into Lurien’s shoulders as he petted their shells and let them spill themself and their hearts into him.

None of them said a thing when he kissed them and stroked their faces so, so gently, with a reverence unlike any other master in the kingdom.

It was almost enough to drive one mad.

The lust and longing filled nights never lasted long, however. Once the last knight had been serviced and the needy fire in Lurien reduced to warm coals, they’d clean him up and he’d be sent on his way back up to his rooms with little fanfare.

Some nights, though, would be laden with too much passion for even the Watcher to handle. His unsteady legs and trembling frame would be too weak to carry him back to the top of the spire. At such times, they’d clean and dress him as usual, but instead of leaving, they’d set him in the center of the room and nestle close, their bodies warming him from all sides until early morning.

They liked those nights the best.

Yet, all things ended the same. Lurien would leave, the days would continue as normal until the next heat haze settled over him and he’d return to the embraces of his protectors.

Was it love? He couldn’t say. As endeared to them as he was, it was not, could not ever last.

The times when they left him wanting and aching- dripping with all they had to give while he struggled for breath were his favorites, yet no matter how he felt after he would have to dash for his private stores upon returning home, crushing handfuls of foul tasting leaves in his hands before downing as much as he could stomach before he slept.

In the mornings he’d smooth his hands over his abdomen and imagine a future where a clutch would be allowed to grow there, then he’d dash the thoughts away and return to his work.

Such habits were hard to break.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the shortness. I've seen this concept floating around and I wanted to try a more...tasteful rendition without dialogue, because not even I am immune to the allure of angst..


End file.
